


Motorcycle Randyness

by Lysistrata



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysistrata/pseuds/Lysistrata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked for a prompt on twitter and got “Who TV Movie: 8/motorbike. Smut. Yum.” So blame my friends list, not me, for this one. Do I even need to say “crack”?! This turned out a lot less porny than I think the requester intended, but my brain refused to make it as sexy as it should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motorcycle Randyness

**Author's Note:**

> Fill 6 for the advent challenge on LJ.

Perhaps it was the lingering thrill of regeneration, or the adrenaline of the chase. Maybe he had just come back _wrong_ this time. In no other body had he been so addicted to touch, to feel, to sensation. I mean, he’d just kissed a human, for Rassilon’s sake. He hadn’t done that for several hundreds of years – though she had given him some very nice shoes. Perhaps a mid life crisis was looming.

Take this moment as a case in point. The Doctor was fairly certain that even in relatively enlightened twentieth century Earth, the fact that he was having a decidedly physical reaction to driving your everyday garden variety motorbike would be viewed as dubious in the very least.

I mean, his third self had adored his various flashy vehicles, but this was really beyond the pale.

None of his other selves had felt the heat and pulse of the engine as he did now, nor lingered over the way the handles felt, gripped in his palms. Hazy as some of his memories still were, he refused to believe that he had ever rutted wantonly against the warm leather of a motorbike seat before either. Thankfully his companion was too terrified to worry about anything other than avoiding losing her grip.

The Doctor did pause for a moment to wonder why the inanimate, although undeniably sensual vehicle was the cause of his predicament rather than the attractive woman grasping him tightly, but dismissed it as one of those “not actually human, you know” moments.

This body just had the perfect hair for feeling a breeze rush through it as he drove; only adding to the increasingly maddening feeling of all-over stimulation and need. There was almost too much sensation to contend with as he struggled to thread through the traffic, though he was fairly confident he could excuse his poor style with mutterings about regenerations being terribly traumatic events.

It was almost a shame when they arrived at the institute before he had managed to circumspectly wriggle and writhe his way into release, though on reflection a post-orgasmic glow was not the best state in which to attempt to defeat the Master.

***  
Plenty of room in the old girl for this, he reasoned later as he wheeled the motorbike inside the Tardis with attempted surreptitiousness. After all, never know when the mood for a good ride will strike.


End file.
